Page 12 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

I kept my voice quiet. “You can let her take one.”

“She already did.”

“Then you can stop frightening her.”

“I didn’t speak to her.”

“You looked at her.”

“So did you.”

“I’m charming.”

“That remains unconfirmed.”

The food arrived before I could defend myself. My omelet covered half the plate, with toast and fruit wedged around the edges. The server placed a separate stack of pancakes beside it.

“I decided against the second table,” she said. “You’re on your own if the booth collapses.”

“I accept the risk.”

Cassidy thanked her and waited until she walked away.

“Normal enough?” she asked.

I cut into the omelet. “Almost.”

“What’s missing?”

“You could admit you wanted bacon.”

“I ordered bacon.”

“Yes, but you acted like it was a tactical concession.”

Cassidy picked up a strip. “You’re spending too much time thinking about my breakfast.”

“I’m trying not to think about your shoulders.”

She paused with the bacon halfway to her mouth.

Her fingers tightened around the strip.

Then she took a bite, chewed, and said, “Try harder.”

I did. For nearly three minutes.

The front door opened and stayed open.

The line outside had doubled. Most people still looked like breakfast customers in beach clothes, but several held phones at chest level. Two teenagers in Sunday Drive shirts edged past an older couple near the entrance. A family with three young children had stopped beside the hostess stand, unable to reach their table.

Cassidy set down her fork.

“What changed?” I asked.

“The line.”

“It’s a popular restaurant.”